Let me tell you something about the underground market: it's shady. Like, "back-alley dentist" shady. It smells like burnt rubber and regret, and the lighting is so bad you're constantly wondering if you're about to trip over a crate of illegal contraband.

Which, by the way, you are.

But if you're like me—an entrepreneurial spirit in a Santa suit—this is the place to get things done. I've got a bag full of goodies courtesy of the League of Villains, and I'm about to turn them into cash faster than you can say "merry capitalism."

The trick to selling in a place like this is confidence. Walk like you belong, talk like you know what you're doing, and for the love of everything holy, don't let anyone know you're actually quirkless. In a crowd like this, quirkless equals easy target.

I weave through the maze of stalls, keeping my head down but my ears open. The vendors are hawking everything from stolen tech to bootleg All Might merchandise. One guy is literally selling "genuine hero autographs" that he's clearly written himself. (Sorry, "Endeavor," but your handwriting looks suspiciously like it belongs to a drunk toddler.)

Finally, I spot my guy—Kaito, the go-to fence for all things weird and valuable. He's sitting behind a makeshift table, chewing on a toothpick and looking like he's seen one too many action movies.

"Deku," he greets me as I approach. He doesn't know my real name, obviously. I'm not stupid. But he knows the mask and the bag, and that's all that matters. "What've you got for me today?"

"Oh, just a little something I picked up from some friends," I say, plopping the bag onto the table.

Kaito raises an eyebrow and starts pulling out items. First, the shiny tech gadgets. Then the jewelry. Finally, the box of unopened action figures. His eyebrows keep climbing higher with every piece.

"You robbed the League of Villains?" he asks, looking half impressed and half like he wants to smack me.

"Borrowed," I correct, crossing my arms. "I'm redistributing wealth, Kaito. You know, like Robin Hood. But better dressed."

He snorts, holding up a particularly sleek piece of tech. "You know what this is?"

"Nope," I admit cheerfully. "But I'm guessing it's worth a lot?"

Kaito sighs, muttering something about amateurs under his breath. Then he pulls out a little device and starts scanning the items. "This is good stuff," he says grudgingly. "Real good. I can give you... 50,000 yen for the lot."

"50,000?" I laugh. "Come on, Kaito, I'm not that naïve. That box of action figures alone could sell for 20,000!"

He shrugs. "Takes a while to move stuff like this. It's not like I can slap a sticker on it and put it on a shelf."

"Oh, please," I scoff. "You've got buyers lining up for League merch. 100,000."

"60,000," he counters, narrowing his eyes.

I lean forward, lowering my voice like I'm letting him in on a secret. "Kaito, buddy, do you really want to risk lowballing me? You know I'll just take this bag to your competitor down the aisle."

Kaito glares at me, but I can see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he groans. "Fine. 80,000. But that's my final offer."

I grin. "Deal."

He starts counting out the cash, grumbling the whole time. Meanwhile, I glance around to make sure no one's watching too closely. The last thing I need is some opportunist deciding to follow me out of here.

When Kaito finally hands me the stack of bills, I tuck it into my bag and stand up. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "Just try not to get yourself killed, kid."

"No promises," I reply with a wink, disappearing into the crowd.

As I make my way back to the surface, I can't help but feel a little proud. Sure, the underground market is shady, and yeah, technically this is all illegal, but I just turned a bag of stolen villain junk into cold, hard cash.

And you know what that means? More toys, more clothes, and more smiles for the kids who need them most.